


Roses

by Ettelwyn



Category: Beauty and the Beast (Fairy Tale)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-11
Updated: 2011-01-11
Packaged: 2017-10-14 16:12:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/151101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ettelwyn/pseuds/Ettelwyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He reflects on how it all happened and how it's changed him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Roses

I am a jerk.

I have always been a jerk.

My parents had received great profits from being merchants, cutting deals, and busting their competitor's ships when they set sail. Consequently, I grew up as your typical rich kid, having every luxury I wanted; the nanny practically raising me, treating the servants like dirt, and wrapping myself up with a cold and rude personality to hide my inner loneliness.

Eventually what was supposed to be a façade became normal and real. I didn't act like a jerk anymore; I _was_ a jerk.

 

And I was good at it.

 

 

It was my seventeenth birthday party. My parents couldn't make it, no surprise there. Every neighboring child near my age or adult of my relative social status was invited. They all came, every one of them, because I was the richest kid in the province. I knew they weren't really my friends, they just wanted to see my home, or try to antagonize me, maybe see if they could steal something. Who knows?

The ladies came in their elegant ball gowns, layers upon layers creating completely impractical large hips and sparkling corsets and so many laced underskirts it was a wonder they didn't trip.

The gentlemen came in their high-collared jackets, their silk shirts, their neat ruffles, the whole bit.

Everything was going splendidly. We danced, we laughed, we gossiped about the person two feet away from us, we secretly hoped Priscilla would get so large she would never marry, we hoped Vincent would spend all of his money as he gambled and everything was so wonderfully fake.

 

It was my idea of a perfect world.

 

Several hours passed of these flawed courteous movements and then it happened.

 

The bell pull was rung.

I weaved through the crowd, and made my way to the grand cherry doors.  
An old vagrant of a woman was on my doorstep.  
"What do you want?" I said.  
"Will you buy a rose? They are quite beautiful and I need the money."  
My mouth curled. "No, I have no need of flowers."  
Her hand latched onto my coat sleeve. "But, good sir, if you don't buy a rose-"  
"I told you! I'm not buying a rose. Get your filthy hands off me!" I smacked her grimy fingers away.  
She shook her head, an odd gleam in her eye.  
"- then you will be cursed. You shall reflect your inside on the outside."

That was how it happened. I slammed the door in her face and within ten minutes, I forgot about the woman.  
At midnight, my guests left and I went to my chambers, and slept.

 

In the morning, I was no longer myself.

 

 

The first week or month - I'm no longer certain of the time frames in the beginning - was terrible. I couldn't get used to my large, cumbersome body and I kept knocking things over, most of the time breaking them. I couldn't eat either, my hands were too large to hold any silverware and soup was my diet for quite a while. The servants were ultimately terrified of me.

The first year I learned to tread softly and slow, to prevent any accidents. I made silverware from wood myself, and took pride in that. I never invited any "friends" over. When my parents came to visit, they were told I was severely sick, if they even bothered to ask.

The second year I learned to talk quietly. My voice had changed and I spoke so much louder than before that my exclamations would quite literally make the floor shake. I frightened my servants terribly. With time, I learned to express myself without yelling.

By the third year, I had become very close to my servants. They became the first friends I had ever made. I was able to have long conversations; I had come out of my shell. I supposed I was nicer. But I still yearned for someone who wasn't scared of me. Oh sure, three years would let them get fairly familiar with the way I looked, but I still... felt there was something I was missing. Some link of my life.

 

 

I had taken to growing flowers in the courtyard. Roses were, ironically, my favorite. There were the symbol of my curse. Roses are beautiful, their petals that deep red, but their stems fortify them against danger. Those ugly, prickly thorns.

I was outside that day, walking among them and smelling their scent. I had several aisles of the roses, yellow and blue, red and white. I loved the white especially. I bent to inhale the scent of one, and a face emerged from the bush.

He was the father of three daughters and three sons, and he had recently lost all his money. His youngest daughter had wanted only a rose, and he thought he would at least get her that.

I empathized with him, but I couldn't help my anger.

 

These roses were precious to me, and no one but I would touch them.

 

Something of my older self came through that day, and I made a deal. I would spare his life if he brought me his daughter. Not exactly a courteous thing to do, but I _was_ a monster.  
He agreed tearfully, and left.

 

 

Three very long days passed. I spent my time locked up in my room. I was so upset with myself for letting my former attitude come through. I was turning into my parents, cutting deals, and breaking hearts. I had just ruined the life of a girl, and I didn't care.

 

That's what upset me the most.

 

 

Then she walked through my gate.

She had long, flowing brown hair. Her face was pale, she looked frightened.

And then she saw me. She didn't scream, she didn't run.  
Her reaction was unlike anything that had happened before when someone saw me.  
She made her way towards me, and then I saw it in her eyes.  
A faint fear.  
I knew, then, that I had to make her unafraid of me.

 

 

We spent every evening meal together, and at first she was very timid of me. I wasn't sure of what to say, so I asked her questions, which she replied to in polite, short comments.

Eventually, she asked to go back to her family for one week. I agreed, although I couldn't really understand. I had never wanted to be around my family. Sure, I missed them, and I was lonely. But they were not the sort of people that make you happy to be around. Every minute I had ever spent with my parents they criticized me, insulted me and generally made me feel unloved.

 

Despite all that, I agreed.

 

But she didn't come back within a week. I had nothing to be certain that she would come back. I shouldn't have been so surprised. And yet, I was. I had come to trust the girl. Well, a lot more than trust. I was nearly certain I loved her.

 

 

My servants were very concerned. I would not speak, I would not eat. I couldn't even go to the effort to make direct eye contact. For the first time in my life, I had felt complete, and then that happy, secure feeling of knowing exactly what I wanted had disappeared. There was a hole within me, and it ate at me, tearing at my very soul.

 

I no longer wanted to live.

 

 

On the third day of her prolonged absence, I went into the rose garden. I fainted with the effort.

When I awoke, she was there, and she cried and wept, and begged me to forgive her. She said she loved me.

That hole inside was filled and I felt my heart lift. I would live, as long as I could have her love.

The next morning, I was back to former self. My lean, blond human body was back. I was myself again. And yet, not.

 

I would never be the same person again.

 

I would never throw up a barrier to hide myself, I would let people see who I truly was; I would be kind, I would be fair. I would be different and better, I promised myself. My inside would be my outside.

 

I guess every person is a rose.

**Author's Note:**

> A very much shortened version of _Beauty and the Beast_ written from the Beast's perspective, and mainly focusing on his thoughts.  
> ...I love that bloke.


End file.
